


Shoot

by Kaiyou



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged Up, BokuAka Week 2017, First Meeting, Frotting, Getting Together, M/M, Photographer!Akaashi, background kenma, background konoha, background kuroo, blowjob, volleyballplayer!Bokuto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 21:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10522242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyou/pseuds/Kaiyou
Summary: People complain that Akaashi has standards that are too high when it comes to finding a lover, but he doesn't really agree. Not that he ever expects to actually meet someone who lives up to those standards. He's happy spending his time idly dreaming about what it would be like to be with his celebrity crush, the ace of Japan's national volleyball team - not that he ever expects to meet him.Then again, things don't always go the way he expects.





	

**Author's Note:**

> OK so this is for the BokuAka week i think day 3? Photography shoot.

Kenma owed him bigtime. That was all Akaashi could think - well when he wasn’t thinking about the fact that his so-called best friend had pulled him in on his day off to make him do a photoshoot with one of those stupid athletes that had gotten so popular at their agency lately. All Akaashi knew was it had better not be that idiot with the bedhead that kept hanging around - childhood friend of Kenma’s or not, the man was nothing but a pain in the ass.

Not that all of the players were like that. Possibly. Akaashi didn’t have any experience with professional athletes, other than watching them on the television or reading about them in magazines. He’d tried playing volleyball in junior high, but then he’d broken his arm the summer before high school. To comfort him, his dad had bought him a camera, and that was that. The photography club was safer than having to hang out in a locker room full of boys, anyways.

Especially not with his, ah. What had one of the teachers called it? His condition. Unenlightened asshole.

Akaashi frowned, pushing his glasses up on his nose. Fortunately, the fashion industry didn’t care so much about him being gay, though he hadn’t ever really found anyone he wanted to have a long-lasting relationship with. A few hookups, some boyfriends that lasted a few months, but nothing ever really, well, worked.

Konoha said his standards were impossibly high. Akaashi didn’t agree. It wasn’t that he expected perfection, he just wanted someone who made his heart race - maybe someone who looked at him like he was the center of the universe and not just some geeky photographer. Was that too much to ask?

Sighing, he opened up the files with the preview pictures of all the men on the national volleyball team. Ushijima, he wasn’t so bad, though he was a bit much for Akaashi’s taste. The Miya brothers - now that was fantasy fodder right there, at least in theory. In actuality, Akaashi knew they were hooking up with a couple of idols in some girl band. Most likely the rest of the players were straight too, especially...

Indulging himself, Akaashi clicked on the picture of his favorite team member. Their ace - well, backup ace, theoretically, but he’d gotten a lot of play this season because Ushijima had been out with some sort of knee injury.

Bokuto Koutarou.

There was something about him that just drew Akaashi to him. Maybe it was his singular intensity or his unpredictability. Well, he seemed to be unpredictable to his opponents, at least, especially with his mood swings. Akaashi didn’t find him all that hard to read - at least in his head.

In his head, though, Bokuto Koutarou had done all sorts of things.

He probably shouldn’t be looking at this picture while waiting for his model to arrive. Especially if it was that pain-in-the-ass Kuroo-san. It wasn’t like Kenma would actually send -

“Hey, hey hey!” said a booming voice. “I’m looking for my photographer?”

Oh, fucking Kenma, there was Bokuto Koutarou in the flesh.

Akaashi froze, preventing himself from slamming his laptop closed. There was nothing odd about a photographer looking at pictures of the people he might photograph, after all, and it wasn’t like Bokuto could actually see his screen. Willing the heat from his cheeks, Akaashi stood and picked up his favorite camera. “I assume you probably mean me,” he said, trying to remind himself to act professional.

Bokuto was tall in real life. Not as tall as he’d thought, comparatively. Oh, he’d known Bokuto was just a little over an inch taller than him, but still - on screen, the man was larger than life. Here, he was - well -

Softer than expected.

“Yeah,” Bokuto said, giving Akaashi a smile that wasn’t anything like what he expected.

Those eyes - it was like he was actually seeing Akaashi, like he was happy to see him. Oh no. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen, ever. His crush wasn’t supposed to suddenly show up and look at him like -

Akaashi turned away, adjusting his lens.

“I’m Bokuto Koutarou. Please take care of me.”

Oh, he wanted to, if he could just get his stomach under control.

“Akaashi Keiji. It’s nice to meet you, Bokuto-san. If you could go take a seat on the couch over there.”

“My hair’s ok? Makeup? Clothes? Uh, Kuroo said you might want to fix me up a bit, I don’t know how it works, but -”

Of course, that blasted Kuroo-san would be involved in this. “You’re fine for now, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, glancing at him. Very fine, actually - the volleyball jersey clung to him in all the right places, and those kneepads, well.

Akaashi had things he wanted to do with those kneepads. Things he had done, in his mind. But this was different - this wasn’t just some image he’d dreamt up to try and get through a lonely night. This was a real life flesh and blood man, a man who was still looking at Akaashi like he was one of the most incredible things he’d ever seen.

Bokuto wasn’t supposed to look at him like that.

Pushing his glasses up on his nose again, Akaashi gestured to the cream-colored settee in the middle of a large, red, circular rug. He’d hung pale backgrounds behind it, and there were lights set up around it that were hooked up to his camera’s flash.

With a little smile, Bokuto walked over, whistling softly before he plopped down. “Like this?” he asked.

Brow furrowing, Akaashi shook his head. “Ah, can you just - um -”

“How do you want me, Akaashi?”

The dropped honorific was just a minor annoyance compared to the thoughts that flooded his mind. “Ah, sit up and rest your elbows on your knees, just look ahead at me.”

Look intense, Akaashi wanted to say. Don’t look at me like you’re trying to figure out everything about me, like we’re familiar for some reason, like we’ve met. Oh, fuck. What if they had? Panic set in, not showing on his face of course because he was, after all, a professional.

Still, it wasn’t like Akaashi hadn’t gone out and gotten wasted a few times. He was always in the company of friends, hadn’t ever woken up in someplace strange, but what if -

No. Kenma would have told him.

Probably.

And it wasn’t like he’d ever actually had sex on one of those nights, as far as he could remember, and he was fairly certain he would remember, but what if -

Professional. He needed to be professional.

“Like this?” Bokuto said, tongue between his lips.

Oh fuck, Bokuto Koutarou wasn’t supposed to be cute.

No. Professional. He was a professional photographer and he would calm down and push all inappropriate thoughts out of his head.

“Almost,” Akaashi said, trying to school his face. “Now, look at the camera like it’s a ball you’re about to slam down into the court.”

The transformation was electric. Bokuto’s face shifted, staring with intense focus into the camera as Akaashi clicked off a few shots, moving around to get different angles and playing with different lighting. “Now, if you could shift your arm here - no, not like that, uh -”

“Like this?” Bokuto asked, arm twisting a bit awkwardly.

“No, hmm. Could you just -”

Evidently, Bokuto was not the best at taking directions. Huffing, Akaashi tried explaining things in different ways. Ordinarily, he would just go over and just arrange things himself, but - what if he’d forgotten to put deodorant on that morning? What if his shoes smelled? What if his breath stank? Here he had Bokuto Koutaro in front of his lens, looking at him like a completely over adorable puppy one minute and sexier than any of his wet dreams the next. Maybe it was just because he was viewing Akaashi from a safe distance, behind the lens of a camera. What if they got close and Bokuto didn’t like the scar on the end of his nose? Damn his mother for thinking that childhood chicken pox parties were a good idea -

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asked, voice hesitant. “I’m sorry I’m not getting it, could you show me?”

Fuck it.

Crossing the distance between them Akaashi reached out and touched Bokuto’s arm. Ok, this was stupid, he’d touched people’s arms before, Bokuto’s couldn’t actually feel all that special. Except that Akaashi could feel the muscles when he pressed against the fabric of his shirt and wanted to feel more. Wanted to get closer and get a better smell of the scent that rose up from the other man’s body. And then there were Bokuto’s eyes, wide, almost innocent for a second before he gave a crooked grin.

“Is that better, Akaashi?” Bokuto murmured.

Akaashi had paused just a moment too long. He knew this. Swallowing, he said, “Yes, Bokuto-san. Just like this.”

Maybe he should get some closeup shots. From here he could see the tiny imperfections in Bokuto’s skin, a couple of enlarged pores, the tiniest bit of dandruff right at his hairline. There was a scar on his cheek. It almost blended in with the skin around it, but this close Akaashi could see it.

Lifting his camera, Akaashi took a few shots, ruling out the fact that there was something far too intimate about the way Bokuto was looking up at him. He never wanted to let anyone else see these. He’d keep them to himself, add them to the collection he’d accumulated of random clippings and screenshots from Bokuto’s matches. It would be fine.

“Is everything alright, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked.

He’d paused again.

Blinking, Akaashi nodded, sucking in a breath when he felt fingers brush against his waistline.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bokuto said, eyes dancing in a way that made Akaashi think he wasn’t sorry at all. “For a moment, you looked dizzy. I didn’t want you to fall.”

You would’ve caught me, though, right?

That was what Akaashi wanted to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned and walked back, pretending to fiddle with one of the lights and trying to ignore the way his skin tingled from where Bokuto had touched him. This was ridiculous. He hadn’t even touched skin.

“Did I upset you, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked, a note of worry in his voice. “Sorry if I was presumptuous, I just -”

“I’m fine, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, glancing back at him. “Besides, you were just concerned for my well being, right?”

There was a slight hesitation before Bokuto said, “Of course, yeah. Exactly.”

What.

Wait, was this -

Was Bokuto Koutarou flirting with him?

The man glanced away, fiddling with the edges of his volleyball jersey like he felt a little embarrassed. But that couldn’t be it. This was Bokuto Koutarou, confident and boisterous - Akaashi had seen his press conferences. Granted, his love life didn’t make it into any of the tabloids, but still -

There was no way that Bokuto Koutarou was flirting with him.

Maybe Kuroo had put him up to it. Oh, fuck. Was that it? Had Kenma told him - but no, Kenma was an asshole but he wasn’t like that, he wouldn’t - or had Akaashi said something while he was drunk? Was this just all some huge revenge fantasy Kuroo had cooked up because of what Akaashi had done at the last awards banquet? He hadn’t even meant to do anything, Kuroo had just made it too easy, and -

That had to be it, though. There was no way that Bokuto Koutarou could actually be flirting with him. After all, Akaashi knew good and well that he was a nobody, just some photographer who happened to have landed a position at a good agency because of his childhood friend. He was passably good looking, he supposed, but not -

Not anywhere close to Bokuto Koutarou’s level.

Reminding himself of this fact, Akaashi steeled himself and turned, saying, “Ok, I think we should try another outfit, maybe. I have some suits in various sizes, I’m pretty sure....”

Bokuto was looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Was he - just what was going on behind those golden eyes?

“You want me in a suit?” Bokuto asked, turning to face him head-on.

The intensity was back in his gaze, enough that Akaashi thought he might melt from it. Oh, yes, he did want Bokuto in a suit. He wanted him in everything, nothing - definitely nothing -

“Where are they, Akaashi?” asked Bokuto, voice low.

Akaashi blinked, trying to remember. It was hard when he had a literal sex god there in front of him, pushing himself up from the couch and walking over. Oh, hells. Akaashi must look like the most idiotic person in the world, he kept spacing out and it wasn’t like him. He wasn’t like this. He was a professional.

“It’s in the - ah,” he started to say, remembering suddenly that the clothes racks were in the breakroom and he still had his lunch mess on the desk in there. Oh, he didn’t want Bokuto to go in and find that. Ugh, he probably wouldn’t care, but still. “I’ll just go pull the rack out, and we can - ah!”

The loss of balance as he turned made him clutch the camera to his chest, shocked when instead of feeling hard tile impact his shoulder he felt strong arms around his waist.

“Man,” Bokuto said. “You’re heavier than you look. You also weren’t nearly this clumsy at the club.”

Akaashi blinked, reaching out and steadying himself before he looked up at Bokuto and said, “Excuse me?”

“Ah!” Bokuto said, reeling back and throwing his hands up defensively. “Uh, I mean - shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you, I just -”

“At the club?” Akaashi asked.

“Oh,” said Bokuto, lowering his hands a bit. “So, you really don’t remember.”

Annoyance pushed out any sense of humiliation Akaashi had been feeling from losing his balance. “Remember what, exactly,” he asked.

“Uh,” said Bokuto, scratching the back of his neck, “Last Friday night? You were at the club with Kenma and Kuroo and some other people from work? You - ah - you were a little drunk.”

Embarrassment flooded Akaashi’s brain and he said, “And what exactly happened at the club when I was drunk?”

“Er, I came over to say hello to Kuroo and the others and you, uh. Introduced yourself? Yeah, that’s it. And we talked for a little bit but um, you were drunk so I just - Kenma made sure you had a taxi home, is all.”

Oh, holy hells.

Akaashi was relatively sure he’d done more than introduce himself. Lifting a hand to his forehead he asked, “In front of Kuroo and Kenma, I did this?”

“Well, uh, yeah,” said Bokuto, shrugging. “But - but it’s not a big deal, really! I mean, I just thought, uh -”

“You thought what.”

“Nevermind,” Bokuto said, shoulders slumping. “Can we just forget about it? Obviously, I was wrong, so we can uh just... continue the photoshoot, maybe?”

Studying him for a minute, Akaashi thought through the words, trying to reinterpret all the things Bokuto had done in light of this new information. It was confusing but -

Well, maybe they should.

Making up his mind, Akaashi nodded, pointing at the couch. “You stay there,” he said. “I’ll bring out the clothes rack.” And take a few minutes to try to figure things out.

Setting his camera down, Akaashi strode to the breakroom, flitting through the clothes on the rack. A suit. He’d said he wanted Bokuto in a suit, but what color - a red tie was obvious, to go with the uniform. What had he done at the club? No, he couldn’t think about that, he had to think about clothes. Was that why Kuroo had been eyeing him even more than usual? It was always hard to figure out what games were in the other man’s head, it just -

Clutching the metal of the rack, Akaashi shook his head. Introduced himself. He’d introduced himself. Exactly what did Bokuto mean by that? He wanted to march right out there and get him to actually tell him and be honest about it this time. Except -

Except what if he really had made a fool of himself? In public? Fuck. He tried to remember, but all he could think about was what he might’ve done. Oh, ugh - and what exactly had Bokuto thought?

No. This wasn’t getting him anywhere.

Tugging on the rack, he rolled it out into the main studio, motioning for Bokuto to join him. Narrowing his eyes he pulled a suit off the rack, then another just in case the first wasn’t big enough.

“Here,” he said, pushing the suits and a red satin tie at Bokuto. “There’s a changing screen over there if you want. If neither of those fit, we have more.”

“Ah, ok,” Bokuto said, brow furrowed before he turned and walked over to the screen.

Akaashi turned away, going back over to fidget with his camera.

Shit. If Akaashi couldn’t get himself under control, the mood of this shoot would be ruined. He was a professional, damn it. He’d even managed to shoot Kuroo without any major problems. Granted, at times he wished he had something in his hands besides a camera, but this shouldn’t be that big of a deal.

The sound of a cleared throat broke his train of thought, and he turned around, sucking in a breath.

“Uh,” said Bokuto, “Is this ok?”

It was. It was more than ok. Bokuto filled out the suit jacket perfectly, and the pants - well. Akaashi missed being able to see his legs, but all in all, Bokuto Koutarou cleaned up extremely well.

“Yeah, it’s ok,” Akaashi murmured. “Your hair is a little messed up now.”

“It is?” sad Bokuto, looking distressed. He lifted a hand up to fix it, his fingers only messing up the now-uneven spikes.

“No, no, stop that, you’re just making it worse,” said Akaashi, walking over. Before he’d even realized it he had lifted a hand, carefully tugging the spikes back into their proper position. It was far more intimate than he’d intended. Bokuto was right there, golden eyes staring into him, letting him do whatever he wanted.

Absently, Akaashi noted that a gold tie would probably look even better than a red one.

“There,” Akaashi said, stepping back and letting his hands fall to the side.

“Thanks, Akaashi!”

The smile Bokuto gave him made Akaashi’s heart stop in his chest. Questions from earlier rose in his mind. “What...”

“Hmm?” said Bokuto, tugging at his suit jacket to make sure it fit correctly.

“Ah, nothing.”

Bokuto wasn’t anything like what he’d expected. He had such a childlike nature, and the earnestness of his smile when he glanced up made Akaashi almost ashamed he’d suspected the man of being involved with some sort of plot. So they had met at the club, and yeah, maybe he’d made a fool of himself, but maybe - well.

Those golden eyes were still watching him, seeming to shift from childlike purity into something warmer and more focused. Close. They were still so close together, and again Akaashi wanted to ask him what he thought he’d been wrong about.

Maybe -

Well, there was no need to rush things.

“Do you want to take a seat again, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked, glancing back as he walked over to his camera.

He almost tripped again when he saw that Bokuto’s gaze had shifted down to look at his ass. Why the hell - he was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and it wasn’t like there was anything amazing about his ass to begin with. If any other guy had done it, Akaashi probably would’ve thrown something at him, but with Bokuto -

Well, it almost made him feel sexy.

“Ah, um, sure,” Bokuto said, glancing up, face flushing in a way that seemed vaguely guilty. He turned and walked over to the settee, sitting down carefully this time.

Picking the camera up, Akaashi considered his options.

What if Bokuto, well.

Liked him?

It made him wonder again exactly what he’d done at the club that night. Nothing too serious, Kenma wouldn’t’ve let him done anything too crazy, but still. He was sober now, wasn’t he?

They both were.

“How do you want me, Akaashi?” Bokuto murmured.

It felt different this time - maybe because Akaashi was coming to grips with the possibility that he might be able to actually have him. It was still just a hope, but with the way Bokuto was looking at him, Akaashi started to wonder if that hope would become reality.

“On your back, I think,” Akaashi said, daring to be a little bit playful. Instantly his self-doubt rose up and tried to tell him there was no way Bokuto Koutarou would ever find him attractive, but it was pushed down by the way Bokuto’s eyes widened, lips curling into a grin that made Akaashi’s stomach tighten in all sorts of good ways.

“Alright. Like this?” Bokuto asked, rolling back and resting his head against the arm of the settee, propping his feet up on the other end.

Akaashi made a face. “No, ugh,” he said, moving to tug Bokuto up. “You’re scrunching the jacket all up, you’re going to get it wrinkled.”

“Oh, sorry,” Bokuto said, looking up at him.

Swallowing, Akaashi tugged the fabric down, running his hands along Bokuto’s sides to make sure there were no more wrinkles. That was all he was doing, obviously. It had nothing to do with wanting to feel the other man up.

Oh, hells.

“Like this,” Akaashi murmured, guiding Bokuto into the position he truly wanted. It ended up with Bokuto being somewhat on his side, looking up as Akaashi moved back to get some wide shots. “Yes, that’s better.”

It was better, and it was also purely self-indulgent. Putting aside his fantasy that there might be something between them, Akaashi took advantage of the time to take as many shots as he could of the person who was quickly becoming his favorite subject.

“You must be a good photographer, Akaashi,” Bokuto said.

“You shouldn’t talk while I’m shooting, Bokuto-san,” answered Akaashi, moving to get a new angle and motioning for Bokuto to move one of his legs. “Besides, how would you know, you haven’t seen my work.”

“I have, though! Kuroo showed me some of the ones you took of him, they were awesome!”

“Ah yes,” Akaashi said, making a face. “Kuroo-san.”

Bokuto laughed. “He said you two don’t always get along. I don’t know why, though, he’s great! He’s my best friend.”

“Yes,” Akaashi said, starting to move away, “I know.”

He was caught by a hand around his wrist. Looking down, he raised an eyebrow.

“And you, Akaashi - you’re... incredible.”

Akaashi blinked. “What?”

“Ah! I mean,” Bokuto said, looking down nervously a moment before he squared his shoulders and looked up. “Akaashi, I think you’re wonderful, and I like you.”

Oh no. Oh no no no, this could not be happening.

“What are we,” Akaashi said, “in high school or something? Junior high?”

He could feel his cheeks heating up.

Bokuto was studying him now, both worry and something more calculating in his gaze. “Not high school, no,” he finally said, tugging at Akaashi’s wrist. “But it’s always better to be clear about things, right? And after all, you said, uh -”

“What?” Akaashi said, careful to hold his camera close as he let himself be pulled down to sit on the edge of the settee, feeling the warmth of Bokuto’s body pressing against his side.

“At the club,” Bokuto murmured, letting his wrist go and running fingers up and down his arm. “You told me you liked me.”

That damn club. He was really going to have to talk to Kenma and get the full details on this. “I thought I just introduced myself,” he murmured. “What happened, really?”

Bokuto made a face, then shrugged and said, “Uh, well. I just dropped by the club to check on things? And when I sat down with Kuroo and the others, you uh - you came over and, um, climbed in my lap? Because because um you said I’d taken your seat. But then, you were playing with my hair, and you said I looked hot in person, and Kuroo asked how you’d know because you weren’t wearing your glasses but then you just ignored him and tried to um -”

“Tried to what?” Akaashi asked, almost frozen in shame and embarrassment.

“Tried to kiss me,” Bokuto mumbled. “But, ah! And I probably would’ve let you too, except it was obvious how drunk you were, and I didn’t want to take advantage of you. So, um. You kissed my neck for a while and told me to take you home, but then Kenma came back to the table and saw what was happening and hit Kuroo and dragged you out.”

“Shit,” Akaashi said. He wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

Bokuto tugged on him again. “But look! Hey! No, I didn’t want to make you feel bad, you just asked me to tell you, so -”

Fuck. This went beyond making a fool of himself. He was never going to touch alcohol again.

“You were hot as hell, Akaashi,” Bokuto said, the words somehow breaking through Akaashi’s self-criticism. “You are, I mean, not were - but you’re more than that, you’re smart, and funny, and talented, and kind -”

“You don't know me, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi, trying to find the strength to stand up and walk away. He couldn’t believe he’d done such a thing - not with Bokuto - and if Bokuto found out about the file he’d been keeping, all the pictures, the video clips -

“I know a little,” Bokuto said. “I, um. I asked around about you? And - ok, so please don’t get mad at me, but I um - Kuroo and I snuck out and watched you eat lunch the other day? I wanted to get to know you, wanted to ask you out, I know it’s weird, please don’t hate me, and then Kenma suggested that I do a photoshoot -”

Peering at him, Akaashi considered. He and Kuroo had spied on him while he was eating? That was - ok, yes, perhaps a little bit weird.

But then again, it wasn’t like he had any room to talk.

Thinking it over a minute, Akaashi decided. “You can’t spy on me with Kuroo-san again,” he said.

Deflating, Bokuto nodded. “Yeah, of course, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve done it -”

“And in the future, if you’re going to ask me out, I expect you to do it properly. No skulking around.” The words felt presumptuous even as they left his mouth, but it was important.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry - wait, what?”

Bokuto was looking at him again, and it was enough for Akaashi to feel the heat rushing back into his cheeks.

“If you’re going to - if you want to,” he said, fingers fidgeting with his camera strap. “Not that I want to presume, I’m just a photographer after all -”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto breathed out, the word so full of hope and joy that it warmed Akaashi down to his very core. “Would you say yes?”

Looking down, Akaashi felt himself getting lost in those golden eyes. There was a dark brown ring around the outside, he saw, and flecks of light yellow shot through the iris. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, I would.”

Bokuto smiled, fingers lifting up and touching Akaashi’s cheek. “Wow, I must be the luckiest guy in the world,” he whispered, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Can I kiss you? Uh, I mean, I don't want to rush you or anything, you just - I’ve really really wanted to kiss you ever since that night, but you don’t owe me a kiss or anything like that that’s not what I’m saying -”

“Shut up, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, smiling as he leaned over, setting his camera carefully down on the carpet beside the settee before brushing his lips against Bokuto’s.

He felt his name whispered against his lips, and then Bokuto’s hands were around his waist, shifting them so suddenly he didn’t even know what had happened. Didn’t know, and didn’t care, not really; he didn’t mind being under this body at all. He just slid his hands beneath that suit jacket so he could feel the muscles of Bokuto’s back, giving into kisses that grew more heated and insistent with every breath.

“Oh, fuck, Akaashi, do you know how beautiful you are?” Bokuto whispered, kissing up Akaashi’s jaw and over to his neck.

Beautiful? Him? He would’ve followed that train of thought further, but he was too busy arching up, letting Bokuto’s hands move him the way he’d moved the other man before, putting him into the position Bokuto wanted as the man ravished his neck. Bokuto’s mouth was harsh, hungry, insistent. It was like Bokuto was a starving man and Akaashi was his last meal. “Bokuto-san,” Akaashi breathed out, “I -”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bokuto said, pulling back and looking down with concern. “Sorry, I don’t mean to rush you or anything - I don’t ever do this, you’re just -”

Blinking up, Akaashi said, “Beautiful?”

“Yes,” Bokuto said, staring down at him.

Feeling a bit bemused, Akaashi lifted a hand and ran his fingers through the other man’s black and white hair. “And hot?”

Sucking in a breath, Bokuto grinned. “Yes,” he said, shrugging though the look on his face was absolutely unrepentant.

“I don’t ask strange men to take me home on a regular basis,” Akaashi said. “Just so you know.”

“I know,” said Bokuto, eyes shining. “Kenma said, you um. You have a habit of turning down anyone who propositions you at the clubs. He said normally alcohol just makes you - er - even more cruel than usual, whatever that means.”

Akaashi laughed, shaking his head. Kenma. Oh, he was going to have to have a talk with his old friend. Later, though.

“He’s right,” Akaashi said. “I’m very very picky about things like that. But I - um. I guess you could say I’m a fan.”

“Of me?” Bokuto asked, eyes widening like it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

“No, of the tooth fairy. Yes, of you, Bokuto Koutarou, man whose high school career ended with him being the fifth best ace in all of Japan, who followed that up with a stellar career in college and then got recruited to the national team, who -”

“Ack! I get it, I get it,” Bokuto said, laughing a bit as he looked away. “I know my career and my stats and things, I just. How did I get lucky enough to have a fan like you? I’m just a mess.”

“I see that now,” Akaashi replied, lips twitching.

“Akaaaaashi!” Bokuto cried, looking hurt for a moment.

Then he pouted, and so, of course, Akaashi had to pull him back into a kiss. It was slower this time, gentle and sensual, and it took Akaashi’s breath away.

A hand slid to his waist, tugging his shirt up so that Bokuto could press against his bare skin. Oh, those hands -

“Bokuto-san,” he murmured, getting lost in the sensations as Bokuto kissed over to the other side of his neck, tugging at his earlobe with his teeth.

“Hmm?” Bokuto murmured, breath hot against his ear.

Oh, this - this was definitely not what Akaashi had expected to happen today, but he wasn’t complaining.

“We can stop if you want,” Bokuto whispered. “I can take you out to dinner or a walk or whatever you want, I’m just - I can’t help wanting you -”

“Don’t stop,” Akaashi said.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto murmured, pulling back again and gazing deeply into his eyes.

Akaashi curled his lips in a smile, feeling a bit mystified by the adoration he saw in Bokuto’s eyes. He brushed his fingers over Bokuto’s cheek, raising an eyebrow when the man lifted a hand, grasping his wrist, one thumb pressing up over Akaashi’s palm.

“What?” he asked, watching as Bokuto turned to press his lips against Akaashi’s fingertips.

“Every part of you,” Bokuto murmured. “I want to know every part of you. Your mouth, your body, your hands - Akaashi, do you know what it was like for me, watching your fingers work your camera? These fingers, they’re just so -”

Chuckling softly, Akaashi watched as Bokuto opened his mouth, tongue flicking out against his pointer finger, tracing the pad. “Fuck,” he whispered, licking his lips in response to what he was seeing. “I think you might have a fetish for my fingers.”

“Maybe,” said Bokuto, grinning at him. “Or maybe it’s just for you.”

“But you just met me,” Akaashi whispered.

Bokuto didn’t reply, just sucked the tip of Akaashi’s pointer finger into his mouth, biting it gently. Akaashi was spellbound as he watched, felt, thought about what it would be like to have Bokuto’s mouth on other parts of his anatomy. This was faster than he normally went, but it just felt right, in so many ways. It would’ve been easier with a few drinks in him, sure -

But then Akaashi thought back to how Bokuto had described that night in the bar, that he’d been loathe to take advantage of Akaashi while he was drunk. Not that Akaashi could know for sure, but he believed him - if only for the reason that Kenma wouldn’t’ve approved of Bokuto getting together with him if he’d crossed the line. No, instead, it seemed that Kenma was the one who’d arranged this little thing.

Manipulative little shit that he was, Akaashi knew Kenma would never do anything to knowingly put him in harm’s way.

Nibbling his bottom lip, Akaashi shifted, pressing two fingers inside Bokuto’s mouth to see what he would do. There - those eyes were back on him again, blatantly open as the other man took every inch he was given. There was something so incredibly visually appealing about the image that Akaashi almost wished he was capturing this on film.

That reminded him he had a camera just a couple of feet away.

Tilting his head to the side, he pulled his fingers out, watching as Bokuto tried to chase after them.

“Tsk,” he murmured, tapping Bokuto on the nose.

Oh shit, he had just tapped Bokuto Koutarou on the nose. What was he thinking -

Except that Bokuto didn’t seem to mind. He just smiled, eyes warm as they looked up at Akaashi.

“I do really like your fingers, Akaashi,” Bokuto said.

“Well, I have to admit I’m a bit fond of your mouth,” Akaashi replied, smiling at the light in Bokuto’s eyes. “However -”

“However?” Bokuto asked.

“Are you alright if I want to change things up a bit? For a moment, at least?”

Tilting his head to the side, Bokuto nodded, pushing up as Akaashi shifted their positions so that Bokuto was laying on his back again.

“That suit jacket is going to be useless soon,” Akaashi murmured, looking at it.

“I could take it off if you wanted,” Bokuto replied, grinning cheekily as he looked up at him.

“Mmm, later. Or well, if you’ll indulge me, I suppose.”

Bokuto nodded, watching curiously as Akaashi shifted to kneel next to the bench, reaching down to pick up his camera.

“Can I?” Akaashi asked.

Eyes widening, Bokuto considered, lips curling into a smile. “Well, I am here for a photoshoot,” he said. “But two conditions.”

“Of course,” said Akaashi, eyes already trailing down to the other man’s torso.

“First, these pictures are for our eyes only, ok? I mean, I don’t mind you having pictures of me - it’s kinda hot, actually, thinking about you looking me later, um, but - just us.”

Akaashi blinked, mind instantly traveling to the folder on his hard drive full of pictures of one incredibly hot Bokuto Koutarou. “Of course,” he said. “I’m very selective about who can see my pictures, and I wouldn’t ever expose you in that manner.”

“Alright, and ah, second - do you mind taking your shirt off?”

“My shirt?” Akaashi asked.

“Well, it’s just, uh - I want to look too! If that’s alright. I mean, I won’t ask for, you know, but -”

It still amazed Akaashi that anyone would find him sexy, but he wasn’t exactly self-conscious about his body. It was respectable - his skin was, perhaps, a bit pale and freckled, but Akaashi supposed it was alright.

“Fine,” he murmured, handing the camera to Bokuto. “Be careful with that.”

Bokuto barely seemed to hear him. Instead, he was turning the camera around in his hands, peering at the dials and buttons. Akaashi thought about telling him not to touch anything but then figured that any damage that the man could do in two seconds probably wouldn’t be hard to undo. He knew his baby like the back of his hand, after all. Besides, hopefully, Bokuto would soon be too distracted to do anything.

Rolling his eyes, Akaashi dropped his hands to the bottom of his t-shirt and tugged the hem up, watching Bokuto to see if he’d caught the man’s attention. Indeed, the man had now turned to him, tongue wetting his lips as his gaze was glued to the patch of skin Akaashi was revealing as he pulled up his shirt. It made Akaashi feel powerful and sexy, two things he didn’t really feel very often.

Bokuto was either going to be very good for him or very, very, bad.

As Akaashi pulled the fabric of the shirt up over his face, he heard a click. Freezing, he realized exactly what Bokuto was doing - or at least trying to do, but it was probable he was actually succeeding. The camera wasn’t that hard to work. Still, Akaashi wasn’t used to being the subject of his camera’s lens.

Swallowing, he continued to pull the shirt up, casting it to the side and looking up at Bokuto. The camera was right there. Bokuto’s eyes were flicking between Akaashi and the screen on the back of the camera like he couldn’t get enough of either one.

“I don’t recall this being part of the arrangement,” Akaashi murmured, tossing the shirt to the side. He made no move to take the camera back, though.

“Well,” Bokuto said, biting his bottom lip as he looked down at the screen, “it’s good for relationships to be balanced, right?”

Lips quirking, Akaashi said, “Are you going to expect me to play volleyball like you do as well?”

“Would you?” Bokuto asked, eyes going wide and innocent again as he stared at Akaashi’s face. “I mean, do you play? Kenma said you used to play when you were younger, but he didn’t remember much about it -”

“I - ah - I did,” Akaashi said, wishing the camera was in his hands so he could capture the look on Bokuto’s face. “But I was just in junior high, and it wasn’t that big a deal.”

“I could teach you,” Bokuto said. “Or Kuroo could help - or even Kenma, he sometimes comes to our practices, though it’s hard to get him to set more than two or three times before he wanders back to his games.”

“I used to set,” Akaashi said, completely unprepared for Bokuto’s response.

The man sat up, reaching out for Akaashi’s shoulder, eyes shining brightly in a way that melted Akaashi’s heart. “That would be amazing! I’d love for you to set for me, Akaashi!”

Once again, the incongruity of the whole situation made Akaashi want to laugh out loud. Instead, he felt himself smile, carefully taking his camera from Bokuto and flipping through some of the shots. His first instinct was to delete them, but he didn’t.

“I might be persuaded, Bokuto-san,” he said.

“Really?” Bokuto asked, bright smile growing sly. “I’m sure I could be very persuasive if you let me.”

His gaze was wandering down again, and Akaashi felt it almost like a physical touch on his skin. He was distinctly aware of all the marks that Bokuto had probably made on his neck, of the way Bokuto was stroking his bare shoulder, of his own almost irresistible desire to fall back into the other man’s body. Bokuto was capturing him on so many levels it was almost criminal. He was almost tempted to call the man a thief, except for the fact that doing so would be admitting that his heart was in jeopardy.

It couldn’t - this was just infatuation, they’d just met. Even if he had been crushing on the man for months, that shouldn’t have an impact. He didn’t get emotional this quickly.

Lust. Lust was preferable to love. He could give in to lust without worrying about it.

Making up his mind to focus, he rose up on his knees, pressing a free hand against Bokuto’s chest. “Will you let me take pictures of you, Bokuto?” he asked.

For a moment, Bokuto looked surprised, like he was trying to figure out why Akaashi was even asking. Akaashi just stared at him, tracing his gaze over Bokuto’s mussed hair, the slight flush to his cheeks, the dilation in his eyes. This incredible man was right here at his disposal and seemed more than willing to do whatever Akaashi wanted - on top of the fact that he seemed to have one or two things he wanted Akaashi to do himself. Or for them to do together. His lips were parted slightly, reminding Akaashi of how his fingers had been pushing into that dark wet heat. For a moment he was tempted to repeat it, but -

No.

He had other pictures in mind.

“You can take whatever pictures you want, Akaashi,” Bokuto said, face almost solemn for a moment like he was making a vow. Oh no, there was the tug on his heart again - Bokuto wasn’t supposed to be someone to love, except -

Well, he’d deal with that later. In-depth, perhaps, possibly over a long span of time. Shaking his head at his own foolishness Akaashi slid one finger over to Bokuto’s chin, lifting the camera and taking a shot as he slid his fingertip down his throat, tracing the bump of Bokuto’s adam’s apple. He would need to shave soon. Akaashi could feel the prickle of hair against his fingertip, could see the faint salt-and-pepper there that told him Bokuto’s hair color was natural. Akaashi wondered if it held true for the rest of his body. Wondered if Bokuto had hair on his chest. He probably had more than Akaashi himself. It was strange, he hadn’t really wondered about those things when imagining Bokuto in his fantasies.

Then again, the man in front of him was so much more than that two-dimensional image.

“Red looks alright on you,” Akaashi murmured as he slid his hand down to the top of Bokuto’s tie, “But I bet you’d look better in gold.”

“My high school colors were black and white and gold,” Bokuto murmured, arching his neck in the most beautiful way as Akaashi tugged at the tie.

“Do you still have your uniform?” Akaashi asked, gaze flicking up to Bokuto’s as he realized the implications of that statement. “Ah, I didn’t mean -”

“I’d dress up for you, Akaashi,” Bokuto replied, eyes dancing. “You could even play teacher if you wanted.”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi murmured, cheeks flushing. “I just meant it’d be interesting to see.”

Not that he was thinking of - well -

Ok, probably not.

“Focus,” Akaashi chided, talking to himself as well as the mischievous man before him.

Bokuto’s grin was unrepentant. It made Akaashi want to smile in return, caught on the edge between softness and the deep desire to just have this man however he could take him. Slowly, carefully.

He supposed he could do both, eventually. At least, if he stayed this lucky.

Resisting the urge to smile, Akaashi pursed his lips, tapping a finger against Bokuto’s adam’s apple. “Now now, I want to take good photographs of you, Bokuto-san. That means you need to follow my instructions. Can you follow my instructions?”

“Yes, Akaash-sensei,” Bokuto teased.

“You’re impossible,” Akaashi said, having to fight the urge to break down into laughter because this man was just too ridiculous.

Bokuto’s eyes sparkled, and Akaashi took a picture because it would be criminal not to.

“I’ve been told so,” Bokuto said, winking. “But never by someone as beautiful as you.”

“If you’re trying to use flattery to get into my pants,” Akaashi growled, “then -”

“It’s working?” asked Bokuto.

“Are my pants still on?”

“For the moment,” Bokuto muttered, lip pressing out in a slight pout. “Oh, and uh, I mean, its alright with me if they stay on, I don’t expect -”

“Am I going to have to tell you to shut up again, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked, pursing his lips.

Tilting his head to the side, Bokuto shrugged. “I just want to make sure you know I respect you, Akaashi,” he murmured, looking down.

“I do,” Akaashi said. Damn but this man was making him weak - too weak, especially when all he’d wanted was a set of sexy photographs showcasing Bokuto getting stripped. How could he fix this? He considered the options, letting his fingers run up and down Bokuto’s throat. “Right now, though, I’d rather see how much you want me.”

“Akaashi?” Bokuto said, glancing up.

There, ah.

Akaashi snapped a photograph, trying to resist being spellbound by the desire in those eyes.

“Do you want me to tell you?” Bokuto asked, looking a bit hesitant. “I could if you want. If it won’t upset you?”

“Why would it upset me?” Akaashi asked, studying him.

“Well,” Bokuto said, “I just don’t want to - you know - push your boundaries? People say I can be a little intense sometimes, I guess.”

“And you think I can’t?” Akaashi asked, nibbling his bottom lip. “I mean, you do realize that, um..”

“Yes?” Bokuto asked.

“You know I want you too, right? As much as you want me if not more, if I’m honest,” Akaashi said, a part of him wanting to swallow back the words as soon as he said them.

“No way,” Bokuto stated. “I know for a fact that’s not true.”

“Excuse me?” Akaashi asked, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Because we still have clothes on,” replied Bokuto, nodding at this statement of obvious fact.

Akaashi stared at them, bowed his head, feeling a bubble of laughter come up from his stomach. He let it out, pressing against Bokuto’s chest for balance as he considered the incongruity of it all. He couldn’t help himself. This - this man -

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asked, hand fluttering as it patted his shoulder. “Akaashi, I’m sorry, are you - wait - are you laughing at me?”

“No,” Akaashi said, trying to bring himself under control.

“You are!” Bokuto gasped, sounding offended. “You asked me to be honest, Akaashi, I just -”

“I’m laughing at us,” Akaashi said, looking up and studying him, wiping tears from his eyes. “Well, maybe laughing at me. Here I am, being -”

“What?” Bokuto asked, rubbing a thumb against his cheeks. There was still worry in his eyes.

Looking down at him fondly, Akaashi took one more picture and then set the camera to the side before saying, “Here I am, trying to be sexy, to just - I don’t know - treat this as a moment where I can act out my fantasies.”

“But you can! I don’t mind! Wait - you fantasize - about - what?”

Swallowing back his fear, Akaashi said, “Yes. I fantasize about you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto’s eyes went wide. “But I thought you didn’t remember the club!”

“I know who you are,” Akaashi chided, leaning forward so he was closer to those beautiful eyes. “Well, I mean, I know your public persona.”

“Oh,” Bokuto said, blinking fast like he was trying to process this. “Well yeah, but - wait - me?”

“Yes,” Akaashi said, feeling a blush rising in his cheeks unbidden.

Drawing in a big breath, Bokuto said, “Akaaaaaaashi.”

Worry settled in the pit of Akaashi’s stomach. What if Bokuto got weirded out by it? What if -”

“That’s amazing,” Bokuto said, huge grin splitting his face. “Do you know what this means?”

“I hesitate to ask, Bokuto-san.”

“It means we were meant to be! This is so romantic!”

Akaashi blanched. He was fairly certain that most of the things he’d imagined Bokuto doing could not be classified as romantic - but then, well.

The real thing blew all those fantasy Bokutos out of the water.

“I prefer the real thing, I have to admit,” Akaashi murmured.

He expected some egotistical exclamation in response to that, Bokuto crowing on and on about how that was obvious because he was the best.

Instead, the real Bokuto just smiled, sliding his arms carefully around Akaashi’s back. “Me too,” he said. “I knew you would be really interesting, but the real you - I want to know everything about you, from top to bottom, inside and out.”

“And once you do?” Akaashi asked. It wasn’t like he was really all that interesting, after all.

Bokuto laughed. “Oh, Akaashi. I don’t think I could ever know everything about you.”

“We just met,” Akaashi protested, feeling like those words had been a litany running inside his head and out.

They didn’t seem to impress Bokuto, however. He just pulled Akaashi down into a kiss, one hand sliding up to cup the back of his neck, the other sliding down to slip under the waistband of his pants. A voice in the back of Akaashi’s mind said that he should be doing something. Taking control, or at the very least, plotting out what happened next, analyzing Bokuto’s responses, trying to make it perfect so that Bokuto’s vision of him wouldn’t be shattered with the reality of how imperfect he was. Oh fuck, what if Bokuto could feel the gap between his teeth where he’d chipped the enamel, what if he didn’t like the scar on Akaashi’s lower back where he’d fallen on a shovel when he was a kid, what if -

“Akaashi,” Bokuto murmured, tugging his head up and looking him in the face.

Swallowing, Akaashi said, “Yes?”

Was this it? Had Bokuto found something that turned him off, was he going to -

“You’re beautiful.”

Staring at him, Akaashi tried to collect the thoughts that had scattered in a million directions at his words. “What?”

“You’re beautiful,” Bokuto repeated, fingers tugging gently at Akaashi’s curls. “And uh, I really like your glasses, but if you want you can take them off. But um, if it’s ok with you, I’d really like for you to come back up on the couch with me? I think it would be more comfortable, and um, I’d just... like to feel you? If that’s alright.”

He really liked his glasses? Akaashi blinked, not sure how to classify that information. Would he like them better with them off? Should he just -

Huffing, Bokuto murmured, “Is it bad of me to want to get you to stop thinking?”

“Do you really think that’s something you’re capable of?” Akaashi asked, not really considering the words.

Evidently, Bokuto had decided to take them seriously, though, because the next thing he knew Akaashi was up on the couch, sprawled on top of Bokuto’s body and pulled into another of those fierce kisses that made every nerve in his body come alive. Bokuto’s hand had strayed farther south, cupping Akaashi’s ass and tugging in a way that made him move his hips in response, groaning at the friction that caused.

Fuck, this was more like it.

Bokuto’s hand was fucking perfect as it cupped his asscheek, squeezing tight, fingertips curling in along the seam of his jeans. Yes, ok, this was doing a good job at driving the thoughts out of his head. When Bokuto broke the kiss Akaashi made a noise of protest that quickly transformed into a gasp as the man used the grip on his ass to boost him up, giving Bokuto access to Akaashi’s chest. He didn’t consider himself hugely sensitive there, but there was something about watching Bokuto go at it, sucking one of his nipples into his mouth, that Akaashi found he liked very much.

And then, of course, there were those hands. They were moving up now, blunt nails drawing lines down Akaashi’s back and then sliding down to cup his ass again, pressing in, rocking his hips in time with the delicious sucks of Bokuto’s mouth.

Bokuto glanced up and smirked, then suddenly the hands at Akaashi’s ass were shifting, holding him steady as Bokuto flipped them around again.

Akaashi’s head fell back against the padded arm of the settee and he stared up at Bokuto, nose crinkling because the action had knocked his glasses askew.

Chuckling, Bokuto reached up and tugged at the glasses. “Do you want them off?” he asked.

As if Akaashi couldn’t remove his own glasses.

Then again, Akaashi’s hands were busy tugging at the red tie that was still around Bokuto’s neck for some reason, letting it slide to the side. “Off is fine,” he murmured, feeling his way back up Bokuto’s magnificent chest so that he could start in on the buttons. He’d wanted to take pictures of this, of him smoothing the fabric open over Bokuto’s chest.

Now he’d just have to use his memory.

Not that he was complaining, not really. He could feel the rumble of Bokuto’s chuckles under his fingertips. Even with his glasses plucked off his nose he could still mainly see Bokuto’s skin, though he mourned the loss of the perfect image.

Next time.

Would there be a next time? He hoped there would be a next time. Hoped that Bokuto wasn’t the type of guy to just blow in and lead him on and get into his pants and then -

No. Kenma would have had some awareness of that, probably. The man was Kuroo’s best friend; even if Akaashi was annoyed by Kuroo he did trust him to some extent.

“I’m falling down on the job,” Bokuto murmured.

“Take off your shirt,” Akaashi replied, pushing him up so that he could get at least something of a view.

Chuckling, Bokuto did as instructed, allowing Akaashi to help him remove the suit jacket and shirt. There. “Much better,” Akaashi murmured, fingers pressing in against skin pulled taught over well-developed muscle. There was a little bit of meat around Bokuto’s stomach, but to Akaashi’s mind, that made him all the more attractive. There was a soft mat of hair on Bokuto’s chest, leading down to a nice happy trail that mirrored his hair’s salt-and-pepper coloring.

“Like what -”

“If you hit me with a cheesy pickup line I’m leaving,” Akaashi said, glaring up at Bokuto.

Gasping, Bokuto said, “Akaaaashi!”

Akaashi could feel his lips quirking, and saw Bokuto smile. He didn’t complete his pickup line, however, choosing instead to claim Akaashi’s mouth again, one hand sliding full up into Akaashi’s hair, fingers tangling in his curls. Akaashi couldn’t believe how much it was turning him on to have Bokuto move him exactly how he wanted. He was aware, however, that Bokuto was being successful at tugging all thoughts out of his head - at least the negative ones.

Which was good, because Akaashi was far too busy focusing on feeling up Bokuto’s back, pressing in against all the muscles that shifted and moved as Bokuto rocked down into him, pressing against the front of his jeans in a way that was starting to become terribly uncomfortable.

That meant that they needed to come off. Bokuto’s pants needed to come off too. Akaashi had very few plans beyond that. He was aware that there was a distinct lack of condoms and lube in this location - he certainly didn’t keep his studio stocked with such things, and he was fairly sure that Bokuto hadn’t smuggled any into the room in his volleyball shorts.

Pity.

Then again, there were plenty of things for them to do besides things that needed lube. It would just mean he’d have to get Bokuto on a bed sometime, hopefully sooner rather than later - or well, maybe Bokuto would have him on a bed. Or both. Both was good.

Good relationships required balance, after all.

Oh, wait, shit. Had Bokuto dropped the R word without Akaashi even catching it?

Damn, this man was a bad influence. Far too distracting, especially -

“Ow,” Akaashi murmured, tongue sliding out to soothe his bottom lip where Bokuto had bitten it.

“You slow down when you’re thinking too much,” Bokuto murmured.

Akaashi opened his mouth to snap at him, but the look in Bokuto’s eyes stopped him cold. How could someone look at him like that? Like he was someone sacred, sexy, and amusing all at the same time?

Then there was a slight hesitation before Bokuto licked his lips and glanced down Akaashi’s body.

“Whelp,” Bokuto said, “I guess this calls for extreme measures.”

“Extreme measures?” Akaashi asked weakly.

Looking back up at him, Bokuto said, “Mmmhmm, yep yep, extreme measures.”

Extreme measures involved sliding fingers down Akaashi’s chest and stomach to the button of his jeans, then looking back up at Akaashi for permission. Bokuto’s lips curled into a grin as he evidently found what he wanted on Akaashi’s face. Thick fingers worked the button open and pulled the zipper down, and Akaashi watched, entranced, as Bokuto slid back between his knees and started tugging his jeans and underwear off of him.

His heart was pounding in his chest. It was Bokuto’s eyes. He had that intense look back again, like all of his focus was on Akaashi and Akaashi’s body. His hands were rough as they moved Akaashi’s legs so that he could pull the clothes all the way off, and then fingers were on Akaashi’s knees, spreading him open like an offering for Bokuto to survey.

“I can’t decide what I want to do first,” Bokuto said, fingers sliding up and down the inside of Akaashi’s thighs.

There was so much hunger in his eyes that it made Akaashi weak. Once again the whole impossibility of the situation struck him. Here was this -

Man.

He was a man.

Not an idol, not some god, just a man. A man who wanted him, who’d been so careful and gentle, who made mistakes and said stupid things and who messed up his hair and had mood swings and all sorts of other things Akaashi knew and didn’t and wanted to.

“I have a suggestion,” Akaashi purred.

“Oh?” Bokuto asked, eyes bright as they looked up at his face.

Lips twitching, Akaashi said, “Me.”

Bokuto gasped. “Akaashi,” he chided.

“What?”

“I thought you were going to be more specific.”

Chuckling, Akaashi said, “Well, there is always the obvious.”

Bokuto laughed, fingers sliding up Akaashi’s thighs towards his cock. “The obvious, hmm? What’s that?”

The teasing light in his eyes made Akaashi’s breath catch in his throat, and he bit his bottom lip. He was so tempted to press his hips up into those hands. A part of him thought that would be too much like begging, though. He never begged. “Can’t you figure it out?”

“I don’t know, maybe you need to spell it out for me,” Bokuto said, grinning widely as he leaned forward.

Akaashi wasn’t sure how to handle this. Sex was normally just messy and impersonal, something he did to get off because it was more interesting to not know where someone else was going to touch. He wasn’t used to laughing.

He wasn’t used to wanting to see someone else’s smile.

Still, right now those lips could be put to better use.

“Suck me off, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi muttered, scooting up and leaning back against the armrest of the settee. “Is that clear enough for you?”

“You aren’t going to say please?” Bokuto teased, licking his lips and leaning forward, his thumbs pressing in against the crease at the top of Akaashi’s thighs.

“Do I really need to?” asked Akaashi. He was bluffing a bit, probably - at this point he was pretty sure there was a point at which he would break down and actually say the words, if only to actually find out if the lips felt as good around his cock as they had around his fingers.

Fortunately for him, Bokuto just laughed. “I guess not,” he said.

Then that gorgeous mouth was opening wide, lips wrapping around the head of his cock and sucking him down.

Akaashi couldn’t help the noise that escaped his throat. Bokuto certainly didn’t seem to mind. He was staring up at Akaashi’s face like he wanted to memorize everything. Fuck. Fuck. It made Akaashi feel vulnerable, exposed, all his bluffs called as Bokuto slid down. He was humming, fucking hells, all warm and wet and tight around Akaashi’s cock. Then he pulled up, lips tight as he flicked his tongue over Akaashi’s slit.

“Fuck!” Akaashi said, bucking up. Those strong hands were there, though, holding him down, keeping him in one place as Bokuto pulled off and kissed the tip. “Bokuto-sannnn -”

“You can call me Koutarou if you want, Akaashi,” Bokuto murmured, suckling the head of his cock in short quick pulses.

“Nnnngh,” was the only thing Akaashi had to reply with, especially when Bokuto dropped back down again, taking him in hungrily. His blowjob technique wasn’t the finest or most careful, but what he lacked in technique he made up in enthusiasm, and pretty soon Akaashi was too far gone to really care one way or the other.

He threw his head back, eyes closed as he gave into sensation. He felt wanted. He felt taken. He was overwhelmed with pleasure, helpless as Bokuto’s hands pressed him down while the man sucked him off like a man dying of thirst. Akaashi was the one dying, though, of need, of want, of pleasure - how had this even - he was close, so fucking close, he should warn him -

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi gasped out, tilting his head to the side as he watched the other man. Oh fuck, there were those eyes again, so bright and intense Akaashi felt like they were seeing into his very soul. “Bokuto-san, I’m - Kou - ah!”

Bokuto sucked hard like he was determined to have Akaashi cum, and Akaashi was completely defenseless to that desire. The pleasure that had been growing in his stomach peaked, sweetness cresting as he released into Bokuto’s mouth, hips spasming as wave after wave washed over him. Good, it was so good, until it was too much and he was tugging at Bokuto’s hair to pull him up.

“Was that ok, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked.

Opening his eyes, Akaashi stared at the man in disbelief. “I’m going to - fuck - I don’t even know,” he groused, turning on his side and pulling Bokuto close. He rocked his hips back away from the other man’s body, still far too sensitive from his orgasm to risk being touched. Words ran into each other in his head, words he wanted to say to Bokuto to thank him, let him know it had been incredible, but all that came out of his mouth was, “I want to kiss you.”

“Really?” Bokuto asked, brow furrowing. “But I just - is it ok?”

Words evidently hadn’t conveyed his intentions clearly enough so he just pulled Bokuto in, putting all his thanks into the hungry press of lips and tongue. He didn’t care that he was tasting himself as well as Bokuto. All he cared about was the way Bokuto’s hands came around his back, pulling him closer into the kiss. It was messy and one of his lips got caught against his teeth in the press but he didn’t care. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real, and he’d take that over the illusion of perfection any day.

After a moment he pulled back, licking his lips. “You swallowed,” he murmured.

Bokuto smiled, rubbing their noses together. “Thank you for the meal,” he replied.

Chuckling, Akaashi slid a hand down Bokuto’s side, fingers curling around his ass. His very nice ass that Akaashi had wanted to touch for a very long time. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I have some ideas,” Bokuto replied, hips canting forward so that Akaashi could feel the press of a hard cock against his hips.

“You want me to return the favor?” Akaashi asked.

“You don’t have to. I can wait. Or hells, if you're feeling generous you could just lie back here naked and I could rub one out watching you and I’d be more than satisfied.”

Akaashi blinked. “You’d do that for me?” he asked, surprised to find that he had kinks he didn’t know existed.

“For you?” Bokuto asked, smirking. “I’m pretty sure I’d be getting the best end of the deal, getting to watch you. You’re beautiful, Akaashi.”

“I’m not sure you know what that word means,” Akaashi said, fighting down a blush.

“In my book, it means Akaashi. You’ll have to get me one of your pictures so I can paste it in the dictionary, though.”

“You - gah - you already got in my pants.”

Laughing, Bokuto said, “Did you think that letting me blow you was going to get me to stop?”

“Well, at least it shut you up for a few minutes.”

“Hey!”

Akaashi smiled, pressing their foreheads together. “It didn’t shut me up, though.”

Everything was a blur this close-up, but he thought Bokuto was looking at him, and he heard an intake of breath. That was good. He pulled his fingers over Bokuto’s hip, thumb brushing up against the waistband.

In response, Bokuto turned just a bit. It wasn’t enough to get Akaashi’s fingers to touch his cock, but that was probably the intention. He gave a soft whine when Akaashi’s hand remained firmly on his hip, then said, “I like it when you make noises, Akaashi. I thought you would be quiet.”

Pausing, Akaashi considered this. “I am, sometimes,” he said.

“But not with me?”

There was a mixture of pride and happiness in Bokuto’s voice that made Akaashi smile, even has he had to swallow down an old fear of his vocalness in bed. He’d had a partner once who’d humiliated him for it like his responsiveness meant he was somehow weak. For some reason, though, he trusted Bokuto never to do the same.

But what if he changed? What if -

“Akaashi?” Bokuto said, one hand sliding to cup Akaashi’s cheek. “I meant, it makes me feel really good to know that I can make you feel good, you know that’s what I mean right? It makes me feel special.”

“Did you have any doubt?” Akaashi asked, closing his eyes and letting himself sink into the warm that was Bokuto.

“I have lots of doubts, sometimes,” Bokuto admitted. “Doubts I’m good enough because I’m not the best, doubts if my team needs me, doubts about whether I’m good enough for you -”

“For me?” Akaashi scoffed, looking down. “I’m just a photographer.”

“That’s what you do, Akaashi, it isn’t who you are. Who you are is like snow, and fire, and grace, and elegance, and emeralds, and an owl striking in complete silence -”

“Owl?” Akaashi asked, feeling unable to process the whole of this. A part of him wanted to push it away as utter nonsense. Another part of him craved it. No one had ever talked to him like this, not that he recalled.

“I love owls,” Bokuto said. “They’re the best!”

Amusement rose up in Akaashi’s mind as he thought about how well that fit. “You are an owl,” he teased, hand curling around Bokuto’s hip.

“Akaaaaashi,” Bokuto whispered. “You - wow.”

Lips twitching, Akaashi slid his fingers over the front of Bokuto’s pants, enjoying the soft groan Bokuto made as he traced up the hard length he found there. Oh my. Oh that was certainly respectable. Images of what he could do with this if he had lube and condoms filled his mind. A part of him was almost desperate to try it, like this was a gift that would be snatched away at any minute.

Maybe not, though.

“I don’t think any owls I know of have anything like this, though,” Akaashi said. “I’m pretty sure they actually have a cloaca.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Bokuto asked, “Should I be wondering why you know that?”

Akaashi flushed, pushing away the reasons why he knew something about bird anatomy, and said, “I think you should be wondering instead what I’m going to do with you.”

“You can do anything you want,” Bokuto moaned out, rocking forward into Akaashi’s hands. “What do you want to do, Akaashi? Will you tell me those fantasies you’ve had about me?”

Cheeks burning, Akaashi said, “No, I will not.”

“Because it makes you embarrassed?” Bokuto asked. “Don’t be embarrassed, Akaashi. I think it’s hot. It’s amazing, really, almost unbelievable, but I want to know -”

“More than you want me to do this?” Akaashi growled, swiftly pulling his hand up and sliding it down underneath the waistband of the pants, fingertips slipping under the elastic of Bokuto’s underwear so that he was finally touching that hot hard length.

Bokuto groaned, rocking his hips and kissing Akaashi with that same intense hunger that he’d had before. This time Akaashi felt more like he was the one in control, though. He indulged them both for a minute, fingers wrapping around Bokuto’s cock, but he really did have more that he wanted to do with this man.

Ignoring Bokuto’s whine he slipped his hand out of Bokuto’s pants, pushing the man onto his back and giving thanks for buying a settee wide enough to almost be a twin sized bed. It wasn’t, not quite - he still felt in danger of falling off as he lay on his side beside Bokuto, and Bokuto’s shoulder was over the edge - but it at least gave him room to be able to watch himself slide fingers down Bokuto’s chest so that he could unbutton and unzip his dress pants.

He was almost tempted to get his camera again, or at least take a break to get his glasses so he could see everything, but -

He didn’t have to do everything at once.

This wasn’t some present that would be snatched out of his hands before he’d gotten done opening it.

They had time.

He could take his time.

Relaxing a bit, Akaashi leaned up, feeling Bokuto’s arm curl around his back and hold him on the settee as he pulled Bokuto’s cock out of his pants. Once again he cursed his blurred vision. He had to trust his sense of touch to give him the details, and what he was touching made his mouth water.

“Like what you see?” Bokuto asked.

Akaashi shot him a look, considering several different ways he might respond to that bit of utter cheesiness. In the end, he just decided on honesty. “Yes,” he murmured, thumb sliding over the tip. “At some point in the future, I think I’d like to have it inside me.”

“Shit,” Bokuto moaned out. The hand on Akaashi’s back slid lower, brushing against the top of his ass.

“Does that count as a fantasy, Bokuto-san? For me to say that if we had the proper supplies, I’d love to finger myself open while you watch, then climb on top of you and lower myself down, feeling you press in deep while I clench around you?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Bokuto groaned, hips rocking up into Akaashi’s hand. “Tighter, please, oh fuck, Akaashi -”

“Or what if I used my fingers to open you up?” Akaashi asked, feeling like he was taking a chance. What if Bokuto was one of those guys who were only comfortable when they were on top? Some athletes were like that, he remembered - athletes with outdated notions of what it meant to be men -

“With your fingers, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked, turning his head and kissing Akaashi’s cheek. “Fuck, I love your hands, you can do anything you want to me with those hands -”

“Anything?” Akaashi breathed, tightening his grip on Bokuto’s cock before letting go.

Whining again, Bokuto said, “Yes, Akaashi, anything you want, just -”

“Then lick.”

Akaashi pulled back and pressed his hand to Bokuto’s mouth, sucking in a breath as the man grabbed his wrist and started lavishing attention on his fingers. He’d meant for Bokuto to just get his palm wet, but this was so much more. Bokuto was sucking his fingers in, pushing them deeper, tongue twisting around his fingers, teeth biting down in a way that would have been murder on his cock but was perfect right now. He felt himself stirring back to life.

Was it selfish to get off twice while only getting Bokuto off once?

What the hell. He’d make it up to him.

“Kick your pants off,” Akaashi murmured, pulling his hand back.

Bokuto followed his orders in a way that sent a thrill up his spine. Oh, he wanted to give and take with this man, take and give and have - have all of him, his incredible body, stupid sense of humor, the words that made Akaashi’s heart melt, the bright intelligence that flashed in his eyes - all of it.

For now though he just let Bokuto pull him close, sliding his hand down between them to line their cocks up together.

“Fuck,” Akaashi said, arching his back and pressing against Bokuto’s chest.

“Yes,” Bokuto moaned, hand sliding into Akaashi’s hair and pulling it back to expose his neck. Then he was kissing, biting, sucking hard as Akaashi stroked their cocks together. “Akaashi, my Akaashi, my perfect beautiful -”

He wanted Bokuto to touch him everywhere, to feel every inch of his skin marked by this hungry mouth. He wanted Bokuto’s fingerprints etched into his ass, his hips, his thighs - he wanted to mark Bokuto in return, take it all, cover him with every bit of his essence. Greedy, he was so greedy, and he wanted - he was so voracious for this man, this Bokuto, his -his, yes his.

“My Bokuto,” he muttered, stroking them faster and faster. “Mine, all mine -”

“Yes - fuck - Akaashi - Keiji - ah!”

The sound of his first name falling from those lips was enough of a shock to almost send him over the edge. He never let anyone use his name other than his family. Not even Kenma - but this -

“Koutarou, Koutarou, fuck yes let go, let me feel you -”

Bokuto was fantasy and reality all wrapped up into one, and he wanted to give everything to him with reckless abandon. He was falling, falling hard and fast and even if there was a voice in the back of his head telling him to slam on the breaks right now he didn’t want to. He just wanted to take everything from the man that his hand was wrapped around, give everything back, make him feel - make them both feel -

With a grunt Bokuto bit down on skin, making Akaashi cry out and sending him over the edge. He wasn’t the only one, he realized - both of them were coming, spilling out, mixing together in a way that seemed perfect to Akaashi.

Bokuto hissed, pulling back, and Akaashi let go with a small laugh. It seemed that Bokuto was sensitive. He’d have to explore that more later.

“Damn,” said Bokuto, blinking at him. “You’re better than a wet dream.”

“I would hope so,” Akaashi said, smirking as he tangled their legs together. He slid his hand up Bokuto’s side, spreading their seed over his skin. Marking his territory. It was probably juvenile, but Bokuto didn’t seem to mind - at least if his smile was anything to go by.

“I’m so happy right now,” Bokuto said, eyes blinking lazily. “Do you know how happy I am, Akaashi?”

“I think so,” Akaashi murmured, pressing his lips to Bokuto’s forehead and curling as close as he dared with the oversensitivity. “Though you can tell me all about it later.”

“I want to. I want to tell you all the things, and tell you about owls, and volleyball, and play volleyball with you, and go walking with you, and take you to eat meat - do you like eating meat, Akaashi? And do so many things.”

Akaashi’s lips twitched, and he pulled Bokuto closer, reveling in his sleepy warmth. Who knew Bokuto would be a cuddler. “I have been known to eat meat in the past, yes,” he said, internally hoping his table manners wouldn’t put the other man off. It was one of the things that Kuroo teased him about when he wasn’t too busy trying to get Kenma to eat some vegetables or something other than apples and apple pie.

“I look forward to what you want us to do, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi murmured, pushing thoughts of anyone else out of his mind. He was starting to feel a bit cold, so he pressed closer to Bokuto to stave off the chill. Bokuto’s hand stroked up and down his back, occasionally sliding loser to cup his ass in a way that felt subtly possessive.

It made Akaashi smile. Then again, it seemed like Bokuto was good at getting him to smile.

“Will you go out to dinner with me tonight, Bokuto-san?”

“Hmmm?” Bokuto asked, nuzzling closer. “Yes, yes, of course, ‘kaashi...”

“We could do barbecue, maybe. Or - Bokuto-san?”

There was no reply, however. It seemed his new lover had passed out.

Akaashi chuckled, sighing happily. He could feel sleep tugging at him as well, even though he was pretty sure he’d get a crick in his neck if he slept on the couch. Maybe he could just doze here, pressed up against this amazing man, and think about what they could do this evening. Food, yes - something to get their strength up. There was an owl cafe he’d heard about, he was sure with Bokuto’s obsession he would love it. Maybe walk, and talk, and then go back to a place where there was a proper bed and condoms and lube - not his place though because Bokuto would see the poster he had up on the back of his door - wow. Yes. He’d definitely have to do some housecleaning before Bokuto came over. Bad enough he knew Akaashi had liked him before they met. Akaashi was fairly sure he’d have to be judicious in the ways he stroked his Bokuto’s ego.

His Bokuto - ah, wow.

This was almost too good to be true. His celebrity crush, seemingly as gone for him as he was for Bokuto, and they were so compatible - it was unreal. And all thanks to the interference of one sneaky, manipulative, opportunistic friend.

He’d have to thank Kenma later.


End file.
